


Amends

by ghostfen



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Drabble, Established Relationship, M/M, Making Love, One Shot, PWP Sort of, Post Season 2 Finale, feelsy porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8224199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostfen/pseuds/ghostfen
Summary: After Elliot recovers from being shot, Tyrell can't seem to rectify what he's done to himself. It's been so long, but the guilt of it still bleeds into everything he does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little self indulgent drabble I wrote to comfort myself after that frankly traumatizing finale. I'm planning on doing a longer fic later, but until then have this little established relationship snippet.

Tyrell's lips languish in the valley of Elliot's abdomen, leaving a trail of hot kisses behind them. Elliot sighs and arches under him, content for once to be touched. Tyrell's hands are all over everything his mouth can't reach, lovingly trailing up and down his thigh, brushing the delicate antler of his collarbone. He could meld every part of his body to Elliot's skin, he thinks, and he still wouldn't be close enough to him. Eyes fluttering closed, he kisses down, down.

His lips pause abruptly over an oval of puckered scar tissue on Elliot's stomach. His shoulders tense, even though Elliot stays still. He put that there, he recalls. Tore through him, harmed him. That look of shocked betrayal on Elliot's face flashes behind his eyes and they almost well up, almost.

Tyrell presses a long, purposeful kiss there. An apology. He does this every time now; I'm sorry, I'm sorry again and again, never quite reaching the point where he's at peace with it. His hands are trembling as they grasp his sides for leverage, and he's doing his damndest to swallow the guilt down and move on.

Then Elliot's hands are in his hair, kind fingers whispering though his scalp, saying, 'It's alright.'

Tyrell presses into them, seeking forgiveness, seeking approval. Elliot strokes him tenderly, his thumbs dipping down to circle his cheeks. He's found tears there before, but this time he's pleased to find them dry. Tyrell chases his fingertips with kisses and Elliot lets him, catching his lashes against his palm. At last he calms himself with Elliot's touch, his assurance, and allows his soul to float at ease in the tranquil bay of his thighs.

Elliot coaxes him downward, then, with a gentle tug of his hair. He crooks a slightly mischevious smile at him from over the slow rise and fall of his chest, and it threads through Tyrell's spine like piano wire. His knees are weak. He needs him in his mouth, he groans, and said mouth is all over his thighs in seconds.

He licks his sweat away, traces the taught line of his muscle to the apex. Sucks a dark bloom where his thigh meets his hip as a private little reminder for the two of them. His head rises up, lip bitten with anticipation, and he circles the head of Elliot's cock with his tongue. He slides him teasingly behind his teeth, his eyes flicking up to his face to gauge his pleasure. Elliot seems just fine, if his knotted brow and parted lips are anything to go by.

Tyrell smiles around his length as he sinks down onto it, all the way down til his nose nestles against the soft nest of his pubic hair. He inhales his scent from thst potent source, a private little indulgence of his. He's sure Elliot would be embarrassed of it if he knew. He busies himself quickly - smothers himself on his length again and again, gulping around him like he's starving. Soon, Elliot's crying out and it's all he can hear, even over the crass wet noises that leave his throat as it stretches.

Elliot cums quickly, and Tyrell gladly swallows. He moans lowly as Elliot's exquisite salty-sweet flavor spreads across his tongue, coats back of his throat. He pulls himself off of him with a wet pop and a goodbye kiss, eyes bright and lungs burning. He always forgot to breathe with Elliot in his mouth - probably because he far prefers him to oxygen. Breaths ragged, he arches over him to kiss his lips, to share a taste of himself.

'I love you,' Tyrell exhales in between kisses, his eyes closing in contentment when Elliot echoes him. 'You're everything to me,' he murmurs into his neck, softer. He's made amends again the way he does every night, has every night since Elliot graciously allowed him close enough. He whispers that he's his, body and soul, and Elliot Responds meekly that he knows.

Tyrell's smiling lips trace his pulse and his hand finds it's mate in Elliot's, and he's whole.


End file.
